


Belief

by Elfarock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanart, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, Mentor Severus Snape, Other Interpretation of the Prophecy, Parental Severus Snape, Severus Snape Lives, The Light Side loses the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfarock/pseuds/Elfarock
Summary: On the second of May 1998, Harry Potter died for a total of three minutes. On that same day, Lord Voldemort died for ten. As the Dark Lord lay motionless, people rejoicing and his allies fleeing, nobody thought to check that he stayed dead.Voldemort had risen again, declared:"Lord Voldemort has vanquished Death three times! Expect retribution."Then vanished in a cloud of smoke.-Written for the SnapeBang2020
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63
Collections: Snape Bigbang, Snape Bigbang 2019





	Belief

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the SnapeBang2020 in collaboration with [A Burger ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABurger) who made the beautiful piece of art down there 😍  
> Thank you very much to [StoryPlease ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyplease/pseuds/storyplease) for the beta !  
> Hope you guys like the Snape content 😉  
> Warnings : Depression, Panic Attacks and Characters talking about and skipping meals.

On the second of May 1998, Harry Potter died for a total of three minutes. On that same day, Lord Voldemort died for ten. As the Dark Lord lay motionless, people rejoicing and his allies fleeing, nobody thought to check that he **stayed** dead.

Voldemort had risen again, declared:

"Lord Voldemort has vanquished Death three times! Expect retribution."

Then vanished in a cloud of smoke.

-

They’d lost more than half of their forces that day, but what was more dire was their loss of hope. Harry Potter had failed to bring down his prophesied nemesis. In the next few days he received more Howlers than he’d ever had. He knew that it was merely the result of people’s unmet expectations, but their raging grief was more vicious than the worst of Dementors. He was attacked by raging widows and mourning orphans, but what could he do to defend himself? He’d failed.

McGonagall had to shield him from the onslaught of anger by secreting him away to a hidden part of the Infirmary, where Snape was also being treated. Getting help for the man had been a complex task, as none were aware of the man’s memories like Harry was. In his half-dead state, Snape had had to swear upon his magic that he didn’t mean harm to anyone.

Facing Snape’s disappointment was probably the worst hit of all. He could not talk yet, as his throat had been all but torn apart, but his eyes did all the talking. Harry thought he could see betrayal in them.

Harry sat in the uncomfortable armchair in the far corner of the room that he would call home for the time being, and refused to look him in the eye. He cried without making a sound, making sure to erase all traces of his grief when he heard visitors approaching.

Neither Ron nor Hermione came to visit him. Snape had more company than him. Flitwick came daily to check on his charmwork, and Mrs Pomfrey tended to the slowly healing wounds. Harry went mostly unnoticed, half hiding in the corner and not saying a word. He received meals from the elves and busied himself with reading the seventh year books he had taken from the library. At night he stayed up and obsessed over the Voldemort problem. He had done all he could to end the bastard. According to all his evidence, it should have worked.

He must have missed something. He reviewed all the information they had gathered over the years, all the flimsy hints Dumbledore had given. Night after night he continued.

-

He kept an ear out when Snape got his daily visits. The Potions master was recovering steadily. He was still weak and would not be walking for a while yet. The day they finally told him to try and speak, Harry made himself smaller. He was sure he would get eviscerated by the man as soon as Pomfrey exited the room. She made him drink a soothing potion and repeat sentences, which made Snape obviously exasperated. "I will not repeat those dim-witted sentences, Pomfrey! You can hear me talk, can't you?" he’d croaked out.

His voice was deep and sharp as always, the potion leaving him with nearly no long-term consequences on that front. The deep and angry gouges in his throat had not resorbed yet.

"The potion will wear off, as I'm sure you know. Don't you go talking for too long, you insufferable man, or you’ll destroy your throat for good this time." She tidied up his bed before leaving. "One hour, not one minute more, Severus."

She left the room and silence fell.

"Come here Potter."

Harry flinched, but he knew he'd better obey. He went to sit by the man’s bed. Still he avoided his gaze.

"What's on your cheek?"

The question took Harry by surprise, it was so far from what he expected. Snape merely sounded curious.

Conjuring a mirror, Harry saw he had a new scar on his face. It was a long gash that went from his left ear nearly to his mouth, still red and inflamed.

"Bat-Bogey hex, I suppose. Ginny was mad." His voice was flat and emotionless. He was nearly whispering.

"You are not. You’ve been here nearly a week and I haven’t seen you angry once. Why not?" Again, Harry was taken aback. He risked a glance towards Snape. His dark eyes were assessing Harry, a frown on his brow, as usual.

"I’m not angry. I'm disappointed. I failed. And I'm frustrated, can’t find the reason why I failed."

"You should be angry, Potter, failure makes you angry, I’ve seen it." He paused. "Did you expect to fail?"

Harry looked down at his hands.

"Why wouldn't I. Who am I to be going against him? There's nothing special about me. I still haven’t found what the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’ is supposed to be." He exhaled roughly. "Just because a stupid prophecy said it, doesn’t make me the Saviour. I knew I had to try and I tried my best, but it obviously wasn’t enough."

"What did Professor Flitwick teach you in your first lesson with him, Potter? What made it possible for you to lift a feather with your mind?" Snape asked.

The non sequitur snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He tried to remember his first year.

"Intent?" He tried.

"Belief." Snape answered. "You have to believe yourself to be capable of that feat of magic to manage a _Wingardium Leviosa_. What would happen if you doubted your ability, Potter?"

Harry was stricken. It really was his fault after all. He hadn’t missed anything. He’d just doomed the Wizarding World to a continued war because he wasn’t even capable of believing in that stupid prophecy for two seconds. He distantly felt tears streaming down his face, the salt irritating the scar on his cheek. This time he did make noise. He was shaking and crying and he bent in half, hiding his face in his hands as much as he could.

He heard someone come in and Snape shooing them out again. He could not control his breathing, hyperventilating and panicking that he would die stupidly, wallowing in his failure.

"Potter, snap out of it!" He heard Snape order him, but he couldn’t get himself under control again. Dimly, he was aware of a potion being forced down his throat and gradually the shaking calmed down, his breathing slowed, and he could think again. He was still crying, but he was too exhausted to care.

He heard Snape say something but he couldn’t bring himself to listen. He shuffled back to his corner, covered himself with his invisibility cloak and huddled on the ground beside a cabinet.

He fell asleep, exhausted, after an hour had passed.

-

When he woke up next, a tray of food was waiting for him under a stasis charm. Someone had taken off his cloak during the night, and had covered him with a blanket. He stayed where he was and didn’t touch the food.

-

"Potter, come here." Snape called to him.

Harry had refused to move or eat, and had glared at Mrs Pomfrey when she threatened to force-feed him his dinner. He knew it was useless to refuse Snape, though. The man would not merely threaten, he would force Harry to come closer whether he wanted or not.

He dragged himself and his blanket to the seat near the bed. He had no more tears left in his body it seemed, as his eyes had stayed dry for the past few hours. He felt weak and pathetic. He refused to look at Snape again.

The silence was stifling. Finally Snape broke it.

"It wasn't your fault."

Harry barked out a broken laugh. "Right."

"Some people’s insistence on treating you like a child and keeping important information from you couldn’t convince you of your ability, Potter. And my admonishments probably haven’t helped either." He said the last part between clenched teeth, as if the words hurt him. "All is not lost. You have destroyed all his Horcruxes, haven’t you? Most of his followers have defected or fled, last I heard. This is a definite setback, but it’s not the end."

Harry shook his head.

"Do you hear me, Potter?" He was getting angry. "There is hope yet."

"Not for Lupin and Tonks, not for Fred, not for Padma, or Colin, or Goyle, Zabini, and Smith. Not for the countless dead Aurors, the centaurs and the mermaids. **They** 're my fault."

"This is war, Potter. People die. They all chose to fight. They didn’t die for you. They died for themselves and their goals. Do not disrespect them by making it all about you."

"They wouldn't have had to die if I just did my job like everyone expected me to! Their deaths would not have been in vain if I’d just done my part!"

"Fine! If you're so insistent! Their deaths are on you Potter, so you owe it to them to avenge them. And you **will**. I’ll convince you of that if it’s the last thing I do."

Harry stayed silent. Snape could do whatever he wanted. Harry would go along with everything. Snape was right. He owed it to all the dead.

-

Snape was well recovered by that point and his bed would be allocated to another wounded of the battle. Harry had to go. Somewhere. All the familiar places had been compromised. There was nowhere left to go. The Light Side was in shambles, everyone running for their lives and trying to keep their closest kin safe.

Hogwarts was just a field hospital for now. The only people left here were the medical team and the families of the wounded. They organised rounds to guard the place as best they could. When everyone was back up on their feet they would all leave the fallen castle. Hogwarts would not reopen in September.

Harry packed his things and got ready to go as Snape was doing the same on his side of the room. Harry would not miss sleeping on a chair, even if he didn’t know where he would sleep that night. His year camping had been less destructive to his back than the week he’d spent here.

"Where will you go Potter? The Weasley’s?" Snape enquired.

"They haven't talked to me since the Battle. Their son died. Don’t think I’d be very welcomed. I’ll probably just camp again."

Snape visibly paused to think that over. "Don't be daft. We need a proper base of operations. Bellatrix died and the Malfoys were last seen in France, why not go back to Grimmauld Place? There is no one left to challenge your claim."

"All defenses are down."

"Then you are lucky I am a Master of Defense, aren’t you?"

-

They both Apparated in the street facing the Order’s former headquarters. Harry had put on his invisibility cloak on Snape's orders. Harry thought Snape ought to be the one to wear it, as only four people knew he was still alive, but Snape had insisted.

"Stay behind me Potter." Snape breathed out slowly.

After Snape performed multiple scanning spells, they stepped into the entryway. Snape flinched at the ghostly Dumbledore, but dispelled it quickly. They carefully checked every room for intruders and curses before Snape allowed Harry to take off his cloak.

"Call the house elf."

"Kreacher !" Harry complied. The elf appeared, grumbling about his unworthy master as was his habit.

"Where is the warding stone, elf?" Snape demanded.

"Filthy half bloods, won’t tell him, how the Mistress would hate seeing them.."

"Kreacher, would you like more filthy half bloods to come into your Mistress’ home? People will be looking for us, and I’m sure your Mistress wouldn’t approve of their presence here either. Tell us how to protect her." Harry pushed.

He saw Snape glancing his way, appraisingly.

That seemed to do the trick as the elf led them to a secret door in the family tapestry room. As soon as they got what they asked, he popped away.

"There is hope for you yet, Potter." Snape said, before bending to look at the cracked stone.

It was nearly reduced to dust and only faintly glowing. Harry had read in the seventh year DADA book that warding stones visually represented the health of the wards they were tied to. At full strength, they should be whole, levitating and quite luminous. As Harry had told Snape, the wards here were down.

"We’ll need to work on this immediately. Prepare for a night of guard, Potter. I’ll be brewing and casting, you’ll be keeping an eye out."

Harry followed Snape and his instructions all over the house. He cast the spells Hermione had taught him on the run, garnering an impressed stare from Snape.

After an afternoon of Snape casting all sorts of wards into place, they went down to the kitchen to grab a bite and set up a brewing space. Harry watched the man prepare the ingredients he’d taken from Hogwarts’ half-destroyed labs before departing. He could recognize the making of one of the two potions.

"Are you making a lodestone potion?" Harry asked.

"You are full of surprises today, Potter. This is seventh year material, how did you come by the knowledge?"

Harry could feel his face heat up.

"I’ve been reading the textbooks these past few days. Had nothing better to do," he mumbled.

"Very good. Pass me the magnetite."

Harry gave him the mineral, now definitely blushing. Snape had complimented him multiple times that day already. It was a disturbing change from his usual behavior. He didn’t know how to react. He opted to simply watch in silence.

The lodestone potion was a seventh year potion for a reason, but its difficulty level was nothing for a master of potions. The multiple complicated sequences that had seemed absolutely bonkers to Harry were executed with grace in an expert hand. He was surprised to see that Snape hadn’t prepared the moonstone beforehand. There was a lull in the potion making process when he could attend to it, but it seemed careless from Snape. Harry judged that there was more than thrice the amount needed, which meant he could try preparing it for him. If he messed up too badly, Snape would have more than enough left.

The friable stone behaved much like limestone, which meant it could be powdered easily, using only a mortar and pestle. The trick was to grind it into a fine enough powder that it could incorporate into the liquid ingredients without bits floating, or so Harry had understood.

He hesitantly gathered the mortar and pestle, as well as some of the moonstone. As Snape hadn’t said anything about his intervention, he continued. Without using magic, as his personal magic would interfere with the inherent quality of the ingredient itself, he began grinding it down. When he found the grain smooth enough, he sifted the powder and weighed the resulting product. He had to begin the process again four times to get the correct amount for the potion.

He’d been so focused on his task he didn’t notice the silence that fell when Snape got to the simmering part and paused to watch him work. He lifted his head up when he got out of his thoughts and met the man’s eyes. There was some sort of soft emotion there for a second before Snape got back to himself and went to inspect the state of the powdered moonstone.

"Acceptable quality for our purposes, and quite excellent for a first try." He gathered the bowl closer to the cauldron. "However, I do believe I gave you the task of guarding me during brewing?"

Harry winced. He had messed up again…

Snape continued: "Considering the wide array of protective spells you used this afternoon, we should be more than safe enough during the process, but keeping alert is never a bad idea."

… or not? Why was Snape so nice all of a sudden?

"Why do you keep doing this?" Harry asked.

"To what are you referring, Potter?"

"You’re… Nice! And giving me compliments and telling me I’ve done well— why?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I have no need to keep my cover as a spy anymore. Being unkind serves no purpose, apart from antagonizing you, which is the opposite of what we should do if we want to survive."

"Oh. I thought it was about our talk. The belief thing."

"You thought I was lying to you. I don’t need to lie to you to make you believe, Potter. You lack proper training because it was never available to you but you have shown proficiency in most areas of magic, especially in Defense. You have an analytical mind that you use well to solve issues in the most efficient way possible. And you do all that without the support you clearly need." He took a shuddering breath. "You remind me of Lily."

Harry was stunned silent. Snape had never volunteered information about his mother before.

"You have her spirit. As much as you look like your father, you’ve grown to be more like her than I ever expected. She would be proud of who you’ve become, Harry." The last words were choked out, emotion overwriting Snape's usual acerbic tone.

A couple of tears slipped from the corners of Harry's eyes. He’d felt like a raw nerve these past few weeks; one spark away from blowing up. Turned out he was imploding instead. The exhaustion and grief and self-blame gnawing at his soul relented for one second, to let pure sadness take over. It was bittersweet and he had no idea how to deal with it. He startled as he felt Snape place his rough fingers over Harry’s and gently squeeze his hand. The man was once more absorbed in his brewing but he left his hand on Harry’s as long as he could. Harry let himself be sad. It was quite relaxing after the guilt.

The matter of Snape's kindness was not resolved yet, though. Passing from antagonistic to neutral he could imagine, but to be downright emotionally supportive? Harry had only experienced something similar with Sirius. The reasons why Snape was behaving this way were still a mystery.

-

The potions brewed and the ritual to restore the warding stone, and thus the wards, completed, Harry allowed himself to relax. He set up his belongings in the room he’d shared with Ron, what felt like a lifetime ago.

He’d sent coded letters to both Ron and Hermione using the sole remaining Hogwarts owl, telling them where he’d gone. Neither had responded. There had been no contact between them since the battle, and Ginny’s enraged meltdown.

_"How dare you come in here like nothing has changed! You betrayed us!”_

He remembered her words vividly. Harry hadn’t done anything to defend himself, not said a word, not avoided her hex. She’d been crying. Her face had been blotched red by her grief. The only viable expression of her anger at her brother’s death had been to lash out at him, so he’d let her. She’d apologized right after, seeing the trace of her anger on his face in blood. Harry had grasped her hands in his and let her cry on his shoulder for a while, before leaving her to grieve with her family.

He traced the long scar on his cheek. It wasn’t inflamed now that Snape had treated it with a scar-reduction poultice, the same one he’d begun to apply to his own neck. Harry hadn’t wanted the scar to disappear so he didn’t continue applying the ointment after Snape had done it the first time. It was healed, not forgotten.

Looking through the window, Harry wondered how his friends were doing. Hermione had stayed with the Weasleys, he thought, so she would be safe. He hadn’t had the time to ask the others where they’d be going before they all gone their separate ways.

Loneliness gripped at his heart. He went to sleep.

-

The next morning, Harry was awoken by Kreacher popping in his room.

"Master’s guest is snooping in the kitchen, disgusting traitor…"

"He probably just wants breakfast, Kreacher. And he’s the one that restored the wards, so you should show him some respect."

Harry took his time with his morning, taking a long bath and reading a bit before going for breakfast.

Coming down the stairs, he heard the noise of distant discussion. He quietly summoned his Extendable Ears and slipped them under the kitchen door.

"... alone! What were you thinking, Weasley? And where’s the Granger girl?"

Snape was apparently yelling through firecall if the crackling of the flames was any indication. Harry could place the answering voice as Arthur Weasley’s.

"Hermione’s with us, she had nowhere to go. We had to take our children to safety, Severus. All protective magic is down in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. And we—" A shaky breath. "We had a son to bury." Mr. Weasley finished softly.

"I don’t believe I’ve had the occasion to extend my condolences." Snape sighed. Began again more calm. "However, you forgot one of your sons that day, Arthur. You all but adopted the lad over the years. He’s been grieving alone."

Arthur tried to interrupt but Snape didn't let him. "I’m not asking that you take him back with you. Come visit. Actually, the wards are strong here, you could all come. Stay a while."

"You surprise me, Severus. I didn’t think you would welcome my brood into your home." Mr. Weasley retorted, a smile in his voice.

"It's his home. And you're his family."

A silence.

"We’ll think about it. For now, Molly doesn’t want to move. We’re regrouping, taking stock of our situation. It's not a no. Just not yet."

"Tell those two to answer his letters at least!" Snape enthused before the firecall disconnected.

Harry hurriedly pushed the Ears into the pocket of his robes and retreated back to his room.

There were too many thoughts swirling into Harry's mind. The Weasleys had taken Hermione with them, but they’d left Harry. And they were not going to come now that they knew where he was. Heartbreak pierced him like an icepick driven into his soul. They must truly blame him for their son’s death.

He’d missed the funeral. He was ashamed to realise that he hadn’t even thought of going. What kind of friend was he? To think only of his pathetic desire for company when the Weasleys were grieving for their son? What kind of person would do that? Tears threatened to spill.

Snape was again taking care of his needs. And why would he do that? There was no reason to try to convince the Weasleys to come. No reason apart from the loneliness that was torturing him. Maybe Harry was finally going crazy. Or he’d woken up in a world where Snape cared for him like Sirius once did. In a way that bordered on the parental. The mere thought was disturbing.

Desperate to distract himself, Harry got his books and hunkered down to read. He’d missed a year of learning, he had to make up for it at one point.

-

Snape barged into his room quite a bit later.

"It’s past two, when were you going to eat ?"

Harry looked up from his notes. A quick Tempus informed him of the time: 2.30 PM.

"I’m not hungry. I’ll eat at dinner."

That answer did not seem to please Snape. A great divot formed between his brows.

"You have not eaten this morning, and you plan on waiting until the day is through! I won’t have you waste away because you’re sulking. Come down or you’ll regret it."

With that, he spun out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. Harry was quite reassured by Snape's retrieved foul mood. At least he knew that version of the man. He put down his notes and went to wash his hands. He’d never gotten the hang of writing with quills; the ink always got everywhere.

The kitchen was still commandeered by the makeshift potion lab they'd set up the day before. Kreacher was busy at the stove, making some sort of stew. And Snape was silently fuming, arms crossed, sat at the table.

"Finally gracing us with your presence, Potter?" He harrumphed. "We have much to do today, or what’s left of today."

Harry sat at the table and mechanically chewed on his lunch, half listening to Snape, until something caught his attention.

“Did you just say training?”

“Yes, Potter, that is precisely what I have been talking about for the past ten minutes. Thank you so much for the amount of attention you are paying this very fine afternoon.” The tone was annoyed but lacked Snape's usual vitriol. “You have never truly been trained; an oversight that shall be corrected as soon as possible. We will go over Defense, Offense and Tactics, as well as Healing and Potions. Don’t make that face, Potter; you have demonstrated ability in all those domains, the training will not be as extensive as you expect. Well, apart from Healing, where your lack of knowledge will have to be remedied. You should have had training since you were eleven, but Dumbledore insisted on you having a ‘normal childhood’.” His expression belied what he really thought on that. “Regarding your little adventures each year since you’ve come to Hogwarts… Let’s just consider them your trials by fire if you will.” He took a sip of his coffee. “We’ll have to begin as soon as possible. Now that we have all brains on the subject, would you care to tell me how far you’ve read in the seventh year Defense course material? Some of those spells will be part of your training.”

Harry spent the remainder of his ‘lunch’ exposing his knowledge on defensive measures and offensive curses. Snape took notes and asked a few questions but otherwise stayed silent. A lesson plan appeared to be taking shape in his notes. Harry privately felt quite glad that he would finally have some proper training, even though he wasn’t sure of the utility of Potions outside of Healing. He always felt like he was floundering in battle. The rapid succession of nearly useless DADA professors hadn’t helped making him confident in his abilities or teaching him more than the bare minimum. Out of his six years of formal education in magic, only three of the six different professors had managed to teach him anything of value and one was an actual Death Eater that wanted him dead… He didn’t let himself think back on Lupin’s time at Hogwarts, his loss still too fresh in his mind.

The last of his meal finished, Harry went to stand but Snape’s hand on his shoulder kept him seated.

“You will not deprive yourself of food again.” He held up a hand when Harry tried to answer. “Eat small portions if you are not hungry, but I will not have you skipping meals again. Please.”

Shocked at hearing that word, Harry lifted his eyes to fix into Snape’s. A pained look resided there.

“You are grieving. Allow yourself to be sad and upset, but do not hurt yourself in the process. Even if you blame yourself. Please.”

“I don’t—I didn’t ! That’s not what this is— ”

“Harry.” His tone was serious. “I know what it is like to blame yourself for the death of people you care about. Our level of actual responsibility differs, but I know how it feels. Whether it was conscious or not, you have been punishing yourself. This stops now. If you need to expel your pain, it won’t help if you hurt yourself. We’ll find something else. Promise me.” His hand tightened on Harry's shoulder, making him conscious of its weight. “Promise me, Harry.”

His throat felt obstructed, and he felt out of breath. He swallowed tightly. “I promise.”

Snape nodded and let his hand fall. Harry stood up rapidly and skittered back into his room.

-

Harry splashed his face with cold water. Why did each conversation with Snape end up so emotionally taxing?

Meeting his own gaze in the mirror, he contemplated the changes that had appeared in the last year. His lightning scar was red and inflamed pretty much constantly. His hair had grown quite a lot and was now curly at the ends. The new scar on his cheek was a simple line of discoloration, a lighter brown than his skin. He thought he looked skinnier than before. His cheeks had sunken a bit. The result of a full year of subpar food and exceedingly high stress. His dark circles were also very impressive. He looked exhausted. Outstanding. Maybe that was why Snape was so nice; was he pitying him?

He picked up his books and went to meet him in the living room. Time for training.

-

Over the next weeks, Harry trained every day. Snape had been accurate in saying that the training was not as terrible as Harry had imagined. The Healing course was harder than the others, as he was an absolute beginner, but even that came to him easily when he put in the effort.

Snape was generous with praise when he got things right, and gave constructive criticism when he failed. Harry had originally been wary of the Potions training, fearing a return of the teaching methods he was used to. One on one, without any interference from Slytherins, Harry had finally proved that he was an adequate brewer. That was already evidenced by his performance in his OWL exam, but here Snape had had to confront his ability. After the first—very silent— brewing session, Harry received the same encouraging training he had in other subjects.

One relief was that Occlumency was not included in the routine. Since his little foray into death, Harry had lost the mental connection to Voldemort. He’d even lost the Parselmouth ability, though he wasn’t sure how he knew this. He could feel the absence of this ability that had been with him for all his life, like a tooth that fell out. He couldn’t help but think this was a bad thing, as he had lost ways to get information. He didn’t miss the nightmares though.

-

"Good work today, Potter." Snape said, completely unflappable, even after a strenuous duelling session.

"Thanks, sir." Harry himself was panting lightly.

He really was glad that he’d never have to fight Snape for real. He wasn’t sure he would win… Voldemort was strong but their fights were quick, Harry had to rely on his speed and accuracy. Against Snape, stamina was more of an issue as he had a defensive style of fighting that allowed him to tire his enemies out before he went on the offensive.

"Take a break and come to the study in an hour; we have things to discuss."

Ominous. Snape usually told him what they would study beforehand. Harry chose not to focus on that and enjoy the break. They’d been at it since the morning, going over battle tactics and shield spells.

He opted to take a quick shower and write his journal. He’d taken up writing the most important or complicated tips he got from Snape in a separate notebook from his usual parchments, like a survival guide. He’d been surprised to see that he was already quite knowledgeable about most of the things addressed in his training. He was quick to learn the more complex spells as he was very assured in the base. Between the many sources of education he had over the years, including Hermione as a teacher in her own right, he’d managed to get a reliable library of knowledge.

 _Hermione_. He still felt the sharp pain of hers and Ron's absence. Focused as he was on his training, he could nearly forget his loneliness. _Nearly_. He wanted to share everything he felt with his friends, but he understood that training and grieving had to come first.

The progress he’d made in the past week was mostly in fine-tuning his battle skills and learning a few new spells. He was tired after fighting Snape but he’d been able to hold his ground and had even managed to take Snape by surprise a few times. His speed was a great asset. Coupled with more training against the duelling master, he’d be able to take anyone. Maybe even Voldemort. Maybe.

Huh. He was making progress in self-confidence also, wasn’t he? The wonders of getting recognized for his good work. Snape was right. No need to lie to make him believe in himself.

-

Climbing back down the stairs, Harry allowed himself to wonder why Snape had been so cryptic about their afternoon meeting. He’d come without any of his books and half-expected to get told off. Maybe they would talk about the Weasleys coming over? His heart beat faster in excitement.

  


He knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Letting himself into the study, Harry studied Snape for clues. He didn’t seem very happy, but then again, he never seemed happy. This was different from his usual neutral expression however.

"Sit."

The armchair in front of the desk was surprisingly comfy and dust-free. Most furniture in this house was very old. Harry wondered how many generations had lived in this immutable house as he stroked the fabric on one of the arms.

"Are you done molesting your chair?" Snape's voice rang in the silence. He was apparently angry. Or exasperated, maybe. Harry had quite a bit of experience deciphering the man's emotions from his voice only, but his accuracy was still not a hundred percent. Snape was usually a very controlled man and kept his face neutral. Many a bet had begun in Gryffindor's common room to see if someone could get him to smile. Not smirk, smile. Impossible feat.

"Yup, done!" Harry exclaimed in answer, purposefully facetious. He would not abandon his good mood because Snape was a bit off today.

"I have bad news. There was an attack in the Ministry yesterday and we lost even more sympathetic aurors.” Well shit. There went his good mood. “Soon we'll only have civilians -untrained civilians- fighting against the Dark Lord." He hadn't said their names. Did he even know who had died and who had survived? Information channels were very limited these days, with the lack of first person account from Snape himself.

Potterwatch, the pirate radio, was still going, even after all the losses from the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry listened to it most nights, anxiously anticipating hearing about the death of someone he knew. A network was built to bring food to the wounded and to bring healers wherever needed. But all resources were steadily depleting. With most Light people in hiding, few people had managed to keep their jobs and buying groceries was becoming a concern for most. People were encouraged to steal from Muggles if they needed to, which had led to some issues with Obliviating and possible violence towards Muggles that Harry was quite afraid of. People were afraid and they began to see Muggles as standing in the way of their safety, as Pureblood supremacists did. How long before fear and desperation was enough to turn some to the Dark? For all his terrifying violence, Lord Voldemort promised security and prosperity to all wizards -or at least those he considered wizards enough.

Loss of hope could cost them the war. Harry was beginning to believe he could take the scaly bastard down if given the chance, but how many would have died in the meantime? How many would have suffered when he was getting stronger?

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he only came back to reality when Snape rapped on the desk to get his attention.

"We need to act before we lose all trained supporters. Any ideas?"

Honestly, Harry was still shocked that Snape now sought his opinion on important matters such as this. He’d begun asking Harry what he thought he needed to train him into, and what he thought could be useful to learn. They had thus added a course in silent Apparition to their agenda. This was otherwise more important of a suggestion to make though. Snape actually trusted him to have worthwhile ideas. Harry really was an active part of this. He couldn’t let him down. He had to come up with something good…

"The DA!"

"Your friends lack much more training than you did before this time. You can’t possibly think they are on par with -"

"No, no, I know that. I meant we can do the same thing. We lack trained fighters. Let’s train them." Harry took a deep breath. The anger and nausea from grief was nearly overwhelming him again. He tried to calm the maelstrom of emotions that rose up in him, but he only managed to expel them into his shaky speech. "We’re waiting here, training one guy because he’s the object of a prophecy, even though we have heaps of people who are itching to help, but lack the training. We have a network of people who are struggling to help each other survive right now, but because I’m important I get to stay here, safe, fed, warm and trained, languishing the absence of my friends, when there are people starving and dying. I want to help. Not later, not in the final fight against the big bad monster, but everyday. I can do it. You can train me. I can train others. I can go out into the Muggle world in disguise and buy food, I can take care of the little ones when their parents are tired. I’m powerful in magic but so weak outside of that. I’ve been keeping from helping others because I’m always told I‘m too important and I deserve a childhood and I’ll miraculously defeat evil with the might of some stupid mysterious power that I still don’t know about! I want to be strong and to use that strength to help others! I'm tired of surviving, I want to thrive, and I’ll bring everyone up with me!"

Harry felt so immensely powerful in this moment. Like he was unstoppable. Magic crackled in his veins and he saw green, the green of _Avada Kedavra_ , the green of his eyes, expand all around him. Drunk on his overdue rebellion, he didn’t even try to stop his next words from tumbling out.

"I know he meant well, but Dumbledore was **wrong**. He thought only of the end, the goals and neglected to care for anyone in the meantime. He sacrificed so many people's fates because he thought he was getting closer to his preferred end. I will not be like him. I couldn’t live with myself if I were like him. I’ve let myself act like he wanted for too long.” He breathed harshly, trying to articulate his thoughts. “You’ve helped me so much these past few weeks and I don’t know how to thank you. You know that he was wrong. You helped me break out of my self-imposed shell. I bought into the ‘special’ spiel, even when I didn’t want to, even when I didn’t even fully believe in it. I’m not more important than any of our people. I shouldn’t get to hide from the danger while others die. And you’re right. None of those people died for me. They died for their cause. But **I** fight for **them** , _all of them_. Not just my own safety. I am but a fighter in this cause and I will be part of the fight just as much as everyone else. I will let this affect my everyday life, and I will lend my strength to the people I’m fighting **for**! "

_Crack!_

His gathered energy slapped out of him, echoing his vow in intensity and sending Snape’s papers flying about the room. Harry blinked rapidly, as if waking from a dream. He felt energized and strong. Snape, however, looked absolutely gobsmacked, his long hair flying around his face.

 _"What have you done, you stupid child?"_ He spat out, livid. "Do you know what you’ve just done?? HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT NEW STUPIDITY YOU'VE UNLEASHED???"

A burn made itself known on Harry's left forearm. The skin suddenly felt inflamed and painfully tight. Quickly lifting his sleeve, Harry was shocked to see a mark searing into his skin.

A bright green Phoenix in flight, backed by a lightning bolt, now adorned his arm.

 _"The Light Lord."_ Thoughts not his own echoed into his mind. _"The Light Lord.""The Light Lord!"_

_"THE LIGHT LORD!"_

Harry collapsed to the floor and knew no more.

-

-

Snape sneered despite himself. This brat would always surprise him. Any time he thought he’d understood Potter, he did something so unexpected that Snape had no choice but reconsider everything he knew about him. Exasperated, Snape rose from the desk to contemplate the young man that had crumpled to the ground after making quite a mess of his study.

He’d rebelled at getting to know the child at first, assuming he would be a perfect copy of his father, and then knowing he would be too close an approximation of Lily that it would be painful. Severus Snape was a selfish man, after all. He clung to the image of his childhood friend as the only safe person to keep an attachment to. The first person to bring hope in his life, and to always demand he be better. She was the perfect ideal to live up to. But that wasn’t the truth of her. She’d been more than his motivation. She was sarcastic and willful, stubborn in the best ways and very strong in her beliefs. And he’d lost her by putting his own need for reassurance and greatness before her concerns.

Her child was all that and more. He did take from his father’s existing —as loath as Snape was to admit it—good side. He was motivated and cocky, also very hungry for affection.

The more he got to know the young man that Harry Potter had become, the more he could see people’s influences on him. He was a mosaic of his parental figures and his own blend of personality traits that gave him the appearance of a broken mirror to the past for Snape. The bravado and infectious grin of his godfather, the patience and kindness of the wolf, the warmth of the Weasleys, the cold focus of Dumbledore... Strangely enough, he was beginning to see some of himself in the boy also.

He had matured so much in so little time, it was hard to keep from feeling proud at the thought. It felt like only yesterday that he’d been eleven and new to the magical world. Since then he’d been facing grave danger at every turn and relying mostly on himself and his closest friends for safety. Snape himself did as much as he could, safely hidden behind his role of a spy. He could be protective while keeping his distance. Keeping from getting too close to the child, from coming to like or even love him.

But seeing the young man broken by his failure had changed all that. He needed to be closer. He needed to protect what was left of his soul before he lost himself to desperation and grief like he himself did. Snape had to be his mentor, because no one else was there to step in. And he could let himself show his admiration for the child, his appreciation of his talents.

After all, the spy was no more. The war still raged and he wasn’t sure he would live to see the end of it. He could allow himself to feel soft for Harry Potter.

He lifted the boy from the ground and brought him back to his room. Checking his head for injuries, he allowed himself to gently smooth Harry’s hair back and away from his face, then carefully removed the boy’s glasses and folded them, placing them on the end table next to the bed. Fondness creeping up in his throat, he exited the room. He had a family of Weasleys to call over. They would come this time. And if they did not, he would force them here. Harry needed them.

-

-

When he came to, Harry was shocked to see a familiar blurry shade of red.

"Blimey, Hermione! He's awake!"

_Ron!_

He was quite surprised to wake up feeling rested and good. In his unfortunately frequent experience with passing out, waking up was usually painful and disorienting.

"Let me through, Weasley." And there was Snape’s harshly concerned voice. Harry had no idea what he’d done, but Snape had made it seem like a terrible thing, so he was inclined to panic a bit.

"Well, Potter, how are you feeling? Did you sleep _well_?" Snape's sarcasm was a welcome sound. If the man felt like making fun of him, the situation couldn’t be that terrible. He’d still be pissed otherwise. Know thy Snape and all that, he thought to himself.

"Quite alright actually." He answered frankly. Sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the table, he could finally see that he’d been moved to his room. Ron was uncertainly wavering at the door, Hermione’s hair visible just behind him. Snape was sitting himself in the old chair by the bed, looking unimpressed.

"That damned Potter luck…" Snape sighed. "How do you manage to put yourself in such situations?"

"What _have_ I done this time, sir ?"

"You somehow made yourself the Light Lord. Out of pure conviction."

Harry truly had no idea how to respond to that. Snape's words were at once informative and completely devoid of any sense. Snape seemed to understand this and volunteered more information.

"Lords emerge when an individual is granted authority over a branch of magic, through merit. The titles are not just for show. The Dark Lord has a semblance of natural authority over any Darkly inclined person in his vicinity, which is why he is always present during initiations. There is never any change of heart at the last minute." Harry could see his clenched fist. Something told him that Snape had witnessed some initiations that could have been prevented, were it not for that power. "He was granted this title after he had become the most eminent scholar in Dark Arts and had proved himself to be the best Dark duellist of his time. He didn’t fully bond with Dark magic, didn’t become a natural conduit for it, as that would prevent him from truly becoming immortal. After all, magic is natural, and immortality isn’t. He isn’t marked by magic as you are. He corrupted his title by using his followers as cannon fodder. His identity is only holding because he is so powerful now that no-one can contest it."

Ron took over.

"You’re now the leader of the Light. People will listen to you. And as you’re fully bonded to Light magic, you’ll listen to them in return. I’ve heard of stories of the Lords. It’s a highly respected position, and it's usually very beneficial for anyone involved. People get a boost in power just by being close to a magical conduit like a Lord. Old Snake Face had to take it really far to be able to hurt his followers, it’s usually impossible to hurt those of your branch. Kind of a security, what with the authority being a thing."

Harry was taken aback. "Authority, you say… Are people going to obey me blindly? I don’t want that power!"

"No. They won’t." Hermione came in finally. She tossed a thin book onto the bed and he reached out to grab it. "People will see you as an enlightened mind, they’ll listen to your ideas but they’ll still be able to make their own judgments and decisions. Your opinion is just going to be on their mind when they’re around you. What they decide to do is fully their own choice."

“So basically nothing different from the usual, mate. Celebrity crush and Lordship, two faces of the same coin, I’ll say.”

"Nice to have you back, Mione." Harry said. "You too, Ron. I missed you both."

They both gave their versions of bashful smiles.

"Yes. So much joy. Potter, I hope you realize you’re in trouble. Occlumency is back on the roster."

Harry didn’t have the time to contest that before—

"Harry, I'm so proud!" Mrs. Weasley’s voice shot through through the door a few seconds before she did. "A rightful Lord, in our family; what an honor! You’re going to do so much good!"

Harry had never seen her happier.

"He's also going to exhaust himself and be swept away by so much responsibility he’ll forget himself. Again," Snape interjected, his ever-present frown on his brow. "Surely you can see how this will be terrible for him?"

"Well, Severus, I’ve never heard you express such concerns before," Molly retorted.

But Harry had. Snape had fought Dumbledore about his well-being multiple times. "He’ll only have an easier time doing his part this way.” Molly continued. “And he deserves it, after all that’s happened! Dumbledore was right, Harry truly is our Saviour."

Harry felt his cheeks redden, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or irritation. "I’m not some sort of Saviour, Mrs. Weasley. I'm just Harry. I just want to do my best to help people."

"Exactly! This is the ultimate proof that you’re as the Prophecy said. All the naysayers are going to have to bite their tongues!"

"No, that's not it at all." Harry explained, as calmly as he could. "The conviction is what granted me the title. It’s not that I’m some super human saviour that can take on the world on his own. It's that I’m one of the many Light side fighters and that I have to do my bit, just as they are. I’m not Dumbledore’s Golden Boy, somehow simultaneously a normal child and also the miraculous solution to evil! I’m not special! I need training and time and support just like everyone else. And I want to share my safety, my food, my training, my time, and my support to all who need it. I’m not a one trick pony you can just trot out to fight Voldemort. I’m better than that, and I'll show you."

The silence after his tirade told Harry that he might have overdone it a bit. He hadn’t screamed like he had with Snape. He’d just plainly told his truth. He’d been right all those years before, when Hagrid had come to introduce him to the Wizarding World. He was just Harry. And it turned out Just Harry could do great things.

Yes, he was very inexperienced in organizing a revolutionary force; yes, he was more sassy than inspirational; yes, he’d prioritized his own survival for a long time, but Just Harry didn’t have to be perfect. He just had to try his hardest. And his mentor was a sarcastic asshole who had messed up badly by prioritizing himself in his youth, that had since done everything in his power to do good. He had guidance there. He’d just have to be more like Snape.

\--

Easier said than done.

Harry had to fight the urge to snark every time someone treated him with deference. People didn’t want an uncertain Harry in charge, they wanted another Dumbledore. A man with all the plans, that inspired and led from afar. Harry truly admired Dumbledore even as he disagreed with his mode of action. He’d managed to keep the Light Side organized for a decade, and even if he didn’t personally agree with all of them, he made a lot of hard choices. He always found an answer to the many problems he was faced with. Or at least that was how it seemed from the outside looking in.

In the past few days, Harry’d had to answer many letters from Light supporters, asking him about his grand plans for defeating the Dark, and what of Hogwarts? Would he rebuild it ? How was he planning to take back the Ministry? What did he think of the debate on Dark creatures? Was anyone allowed to leave the country now that the Department for International Portkeys and FlooFire had been destroyed?

Harry had partial answers to some of those questions and had just learned about some issues he’d had no idea even existed. Harry was stumbling in the dark, trying his best. He had to show his ignorance to gain knowledge, all the while losing people’s blind faith.

Harry went looking for guidance; he knew he needed it. Molly's advice had simply been to do as he thought was best. Her trust in him was flattering but not very practical. Harry privately thought that was her way to deal with all this chaos and the loss of her child. She had to believe in something and she’d chosen to believe in him. The thought was quite sobering. All those people asking questions were those who had similarly placed their trust in him.

Arthur was occupied with helping fellow Ministry employees protect themselves and their families. His department was hit severely when new measures were implemented to authorize use of harsh Memory charms or of killing Muggle witnesses. He sent an encouraging message to Harry, also believing that any change Harry could bring would be beneficial.

Harry himself wasn’t so sure. He’d made mistakes in the past that had cost him and people he loved a lot.

He was grateful when Snape decided to shadow him and help him along. Snape was often the voice of reason, sensitive to Harry's emotional blind spots, and Harry was aware of his in return. He’d never refrained from pointing out Snape's faults in the past. Now that Snape began to treat him like an equal, Harry thought they could keep each other in check.

Snape had stayed his acerbic mentor and the relationship they tentatively built during their few weeks of training was similarly unchanged. The man was Darkly inclined and wouldn’t fall under the Light Lord's authority. But he also chose not to change his manner around him. Harry found himself being grateful that the older man stayed so much of himself through everything that happened since his first year. Apart from a sudden surge in kindness after he lost his position as a spy, Snape was a constant in Harry's life. Ever since he had been introduced to the Wizarding World, Snape had been there, protecting him and teaching him in his own way. Harry recognised that he’d been genuinely dismayed when he thought Snape had turned back to Voldemort, especially as it had been revealed that the clever boy he’d admired so much in the Half-Blood Prince was the younger version of his then most detested professor.

"I approve wholeheartedly to your project of -and I quote- ‘helping everyone’, but I had questions on how exactly you planned on implementing that," Snape asked one night.

"I find a problem. I fix the problem. I pass on to the next one. Until there are no more pressing problems."

"..."

"Alternatively, I create a problem for someone else, thus distracting them from creating more problems for us."

"That I can agree with. How?"

"Seamus is very good at making things explode that should not… also, Neville somehow creates mixtures that are so corrosive they melt cauldrons. I'm curious what would happen should they work together. You never paired them together in Potions?"

"I did not want to destroy Hogwarts."

The first order of business for Harry was to find a place where he could gather many people for meetings and training. He was following the path they'd walked when creating the DA.

Well, the actual first step had been to get Ron and Hermione on board, and that had gone as swiftly as expected. They were not impressed by his new title and had always taken his ideas into account anyway so not much had changed from their relationship. They still bickered and had differing opinions on how to proceed. That was a massive relief. As everything around him was shifting, Harry was grasping onto familiar threads.

"What is she writing?" He muttered to Ron.

"A list of all the people she wants to eviscerate."

"I worry about your girlfriend, Ron."

"She's your best friend, mate."

"So we should both be worried then."

"The parchment written in blue ink is the list of House Elves she’s talked to that want to be freed from the Wizards they’re contracted to. And the mermaids who want to reclaim their independence. And the centaurs that will take back their land. She’s apparently a stress-diplomat."

"Wow."

"Oh! And also the Vampire leaders, ranked by order of political influence."

"I’ll just go ahead and say I support our next Minister, shall I?"

"Pretty much."

The familiar territory was an absolute savior for Harry's piece of mind. Snape had been right, he needed Occlumency, and quite rapidly.

It wasn’t direct telepathy nor true Legilimancy, but Harry could sense the overall needs of his people and their mood. It didn’t give him information he wasn’t expecting, for now. Right this moment, he mostly felt hunger and fear and a burst of hope, and he knew that he needed to remedy the Muggle interaction issue as quickly as he could. As he had feared, Wizards were increasingly put into situations where Muggles had a resource they needed and could bar them access from. Making a scene was unadvisable, as the Ministry would be notified and the Death Eaters with it.

Being so uneducated on the ways of life of the Muggles, only a few people had managed to acquire food without being run out of the store… Harry had never been to Muggle Studies in Hogwarts but Hermione had, and she’d found it severely out of touch. It would be no help at all.

Arthur Weasley volunteered himself and his colleagues as instructors for Muggle culture. He’d managed to gather most of his like-minded colleagues and get them to safety. They were the most knowledgeable Wizards on Muggle culture, even if their knowledge was sometimes outdated.

Mr. Weasley had come to apologize to Harry for leaving Hogwarts without him. Harry could read between the lines. They’d had no real reason for that action, apart from misplaced resentment about Fred’s death. Harry was quick to reassure him and Mrs. Weasley that he didn’t blame them and could understand their feelings. After all, his first reaction was to blame himself too. And he’d done harsher things in grief himself. He remembered trashing Dumbledore’s study after Sirius’ passing.

“You’re family, Harry, we shouldn’t have left you, even when it was hard for us.” Molly countered.

“We’re family and this is why I don’t blame you. I feel for you too much to misunderstand your actions as rejection, instead of grief.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” Arthur had taken him under his arm. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you're safe, and I’m proud of you. You’ll be a great Lord. I trust you.”

Harry had to breathe through the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He relished in his family’s presence around him. They would be safe.

\--

A few days after his rise to Lordship, Harry received a letter from one Augusta Longbottom. The family Manor had been all but abandoned in favor of a smaller sized mansion a few generations back, when such sprawling domains came out of fashion. The building wasn’t in a bad shape and could house several dozens, without mentioning the greenhouses and the forest that was part of their land. She was willing to give access to this domain to the Light Lord if she had control of what renovations were undertaken. Considering it more than fair, Harry accepted the offer.

The next issue would be to properly ward the place and check visitors before entering the protected space. After taking care of those considerations by employing the brilliant spellwork of Filius Flitwick, the DA experience of one Hermione Granger and the mastery of Potions of Severus Snape, the new Light Headquarters were ready in less than a week. Each member was sworn to secrecy or they would lose their magic. If they wanted to add someone to the organization, they'd have to ask permission. Harry thought this was a bit too restraining but Snape wouldn’t budge on security.

"Potter, I’ve known you for years. If there's any way anything can go wrong, it will go wrong around you."

Harry had to admit that following the advice of the most successful spy in history couldn’t be too prudent.

With security in place, Harry began his work by providing lodging to orphans and homeless people, first at Longbottom Manor and then in various safe houses that were given to the cause and properly warded. When word got out that Harry was genuinely acting on his convictions, more people were sworn into the secrecy of the Light. Little by little they organised for Muggleborns and Half-Bloods knowledgeable of the Muggle World to procure food peacefully. They had to make do with little to no funding, as most wealthy members were wanted by the Death Eaters and would be captured were they to try to get to Gringotts.

Still, things were taking shape. A regain of hope had motivated people to get involved and expand their support networks. Soon there was a real method to the madness. Some managed to get jobs in the Muggle World to get some funds in. The discriminations that existed in the Wizarding World were not the same ones that existed in the Muggle one. Newly educated werewolves were able to find higher paying jobs in the Muggle World, simply because they now understood it.

Sharing became the norm between sworn members. The trust that was established in being part of the movement allowed people to be more open and cooperative. Be it food, tools, clothes, knowledge or time, Light members shared without question.

Ron was thriving in his capacity as a Strategist apprentice. He was working alongside the few remaining Aurors and Curse Breakers to train fighters in tactics. He still had to improve on his impulsiveness but he was rising through the ranks as one of the best.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was the head of this group and decided on when and how to conduct attacks on the Death Eaters. They gathered intel wherever they could, working on recruiting their informants and keeping them safe as well. Bill was the head instructor in curse breaking, and Fleur the lead in infiltration tactics. They worked outside of Harry’s authority, as they knew better than him how to properly conduct raids and train their own fighters. Still, Harry receivd regular reports so he could plan for the long-term.

Hermione decided to help those deemed "Dark Creatures." They were naturally Darkly inclined and had gotten the short end of the stick from both the Light and the Dark before. Being victims of violence and disdain from both groups for centuries had led them to rely only on themselves and be aggressive towards Wizarding envoys. As a Muggleborn, Hermione thought she understood the feelings of these people that were disregarded purely because of their magical nature. She knew the issues were completely different but she couldn’t help but see the parallels. Hermione’s position was one that quickly got officially adopted by the Light. Any sapient being was to be protected and respected.

She was the one that served as mediator between Sylphs and Welsh Naiads, using her encyclopedic knowledge of history and some diplomatic tact that she learned on the fly to prevent a war. She organised for Werewolves to learn to grow all the ingredients and brew their own Wolfsbane, as a way to give them more control on their transformation. Similarly, Vampires were welcomed and a blood donation was organised so they wouldn’t have to resort to Glamour to feed. The abandoned terrain of Hogwarts had been claimed by both Centaurs and Mermaids as theirs, repayment for being locked into small pieces of their ancestral lands for so long. The newly trained Light forces were helping defend their borders from the Death Eaters and the Ministry officials that followed into Umbridge's footsteps with enthusiasm.

Harry himself couldn’t go out of protected spaces without being tracked by Death Eaters, so he only participated in a few raids that didn’t rely on secrecy as much. The large domain attached to Longbottom Manor was the only thing that kept Harry from going crazy from cabin fever. The help he was able to provide consisted mostly of organisation and teaching. However, it appeared that those talents were the ones most in demand.

Being regarded as an authority gave him the advantage of being able to break disputes and demand arguments instead of screaming matches. Tensions were high at Longbottom Manor, because of the forced cohabitation. People were at each other's throats at the drop of a hat. Harry had never felt like more of a teacher than when he had to send two teenagers to detention because they tried to burn each others’ eyebrows off. The fun of having to deal with trivial disputes was a welcome respite from the more grave demands. He’d had to choose between letting a young werewolf be kidnapped and getting enough food for the week. His choice had been easy at the time, but explaining to hungry children why they had to wait for more food was heart-wrenching. Harry was truly grateful that he didn’t have to shoulder the burden of leadership on his own. Such hard choices were made possible because he knew he could count on others to give their best also.

Little by little, things settled into a gentle rhythm of bizarrely near-normal life. Their community, its numbers growing by the day, was surviving and learning on the fringe of both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds. Pretty soon, applicants came in that were Darkly inclined. Some wanted them to be denied access, but Harry stood his ground.

"The inherent magical nature of people has no bearing on their actions. We have security checks in place. You have all passed them. There is no way to join if you mean any harm to the members or the cause. If anyone passes and accepts the secrecy clause, they are accepted. No matter their inclination."

Harmful tendencies were not accepted in any way. Obviously there was no way to have everyone get along with each other, but Flitwick had designed the test to make sure no one would be actively trying to hurt others. Harry’s argument stood ground as some Light inclined people had failed the security test before. Some who had thought that all "creatures" were to be "controlled". He’d had to face some backlash for this decision but people relented when the first Dark members came in, obviously underfed and exhausted. Seeing the result of the current reigning power on people of their own magic branch was convincing enough.

\--

Sometimes Harry caught himself wishing he could have lived this with the people he’d lost. With Remus, and Sirius, and his mum and his dad, those he had never even met. He was growing into himself, finding his footing. Not just as a leader but as a person also. He’d learnt so many things about himself in the last few months. Resilience was one of his best attributes. But so was his kindness. He loved teaching more than anything. The DA had introduced him to the role, but teaching Defense here was everything he hadn’t known he’d wanted. He felt strong and nurturing, shaping the literal shields that would protect these people. The pride he mirrored when his students mastered a spell, the heartbreak at knowing what this knowledge was needed for, the elation at tracking progress and the admiration that rose in front of such determination to succeed. He was humbled. And overjoyed.

The connection he felt with everyone, even without knowing them personally was so fulfilling. These were his people.

The orphans were the ones that struck deepest into his heart, both because he could see himself in them but also because they needed him so badly. He’d known that he wanted children in a vague sense, half expecting to die before he’d ever get the chance. Now that he’d had children depending on him, he knew he couldn’t go without. There were so many children without parents, hungry for love and reassurance, and he needed to help them. The system in place here made it so they all took care of the kids, with one or two closer guardians appointed to each child so they had a higher authority to make decisions for and about the child. Harry had a child appointed to him, after he’d passed the evaluation. Proving he was stable enough to care for a child had proved difficult when everyone knew him for his dangerous ‘exploits’. But he’d convinced the council. He was a teacher, a leader and a tired person at heart. He only fought when he had to, even going so far as to reduce his involvement into attacks lately. The force was strong without him and they should be able to stand without him, in case they ever needed to.

They’d given him guardianship of a twelve year old named Maximilian. He didn’t disclose his last name and refused to say what had happened to his family. Many orphans did the same, to keep free of judgment from people who would blame a child for their parent’s actions. Harry took the role of an adoptive big brother to him. The kid had first been wary of him but he slowly warmed up, trusting Harry to care for him. Max was one of the many Darkly inclined orphans they’d found. It seemed the Death Eaters spared children from death if they came from Dark families. They didn’t spare them from suffering if they didn’t join up, though.

Snape was a crucial part of reassuring the Dark orphans that they were safe. He was the main advisor to the Light Lord, had a high position in the Light force and was admired by most, a Master of Potions and Defense as well as a good strategist. He was also highly involved in the running of the orphanage, making sure the kids were well taken care of, even if he wouldn’t take a guardian position. He kept saying he already had his hands full with the one brat he’d been guarding for seventeen years.

—

—

Snape was half surprised to see Maximilian adapt so well to being under the care of the Light Lord. He’d noticed the physical similarities between Max and one of his Slytherin students but had kept quiet, respecting the boy’s choice. He knew that Harry would not care but he would not take the feeling of safety from the scared teenager. Harry, Maximilian and him had moved into a suite in the Longbottom Manor, with three connected rooms refurbished into three bedrooms. They had a common bathroom and a small kitchen space. They would keep taking most of their meals in the common dining room anyway, to avoid being cooped up in their shared space.

Harry was the one that had been granted guardianship over Maximilian but Snape was still the authority as far as both teenagers were concerned. Harry took care of the boy’s nightmares, speaking to him in soft tones at the break of dawn and bringing him hot chocolate. He was the one that got the boy to come out of his shell and smile the first time, by teasing out his passion for dragons. Snape provided the structure, demanding they go to sleep, reminding them to eat. He was also the one that they looked for when the horrors of their lives became too much to bear. Snape found himself becoming quite adept at reassuring the both of them and keeping their hope alive.

Without meaning to, Snape had become a father figure to both these teenagers. He’d never given half a thought to having children of his own. Besides his certainty that he would die young, he felt he’d had enough of children with being a teacher. He discovered that being a parent was far more fulfilling than being a teacher. He quite liked shaping these boys into independent people, arming them with all the tips he could provide to help them along. He’d lacked the opportunity to have such a relationship with his father and was surprised to enjoy it so much with Maximilian, but mostly with Harry.

Being a parental figure to Harry Potter was full of surprises, the largest of which being the young man’s openness to the attention. It made sense, when Snape thought about it. Between being an orphan, the home life he’d been able to discern from their Occlumency lessons and the death of nearly all parental figures in the past three years, Harry truly needed some support.

He was also lucky he’d found two boys that got along very well, making his job far easier.

Which explained why he had to deal with crazy scenes some nights, when tensions deflated into childishness. Such as Harry chasing a laughing Max to force him into the shower after an exploding inkwell ‘incident’.

Sighing, Snape focused back on his Evening Prophet, hiding a fond smile behind the paper. It was healing something in him to hear that incessant laughing in these dark times. His boys were definitely going to clean all the ink splatters on their own though.

—

—

Harry woke up one day, realising that he was managing roughly half of Britain's Wizarding population, thankfully not entirely by himself, and he was doing pretty well. It was true that he’d broken down in tears the week before and had to be carried to bed by an exasperated Snape, all because he had gone three days without sleeping and exceedingly large amounts of coffee. And yes, he had accidentally called the man "dad" in another exhausted daze. But that had nothing to do with his success. Nor was this why he was hiding at his desk now, mere hours after that incident…

"Harry, stop hiding from me, you’ll be late for your afternoon classes." Snape remarked, dryly.

"I’m not hiding from you, I'm reading this report." He wasn’t.

"It's upside down." An amused chuckle. Was that what he’d just heard coming from the corner of the room where Snape was standing? He lifted his head to catch that impossible sight. Snape was smiling! A sardonic smile, but a smile nonetheless!

Over the two months since his emergence, Harry had grown closer to the man. They’d passed a lot of time discussing the organization of the Light, brainstorming, having screaming matches, breaking down under the pressure, crying and passing out. It seemed that Harry didn’t know how to live an uneventful life.

"Harry! Urgent news from Fleur!" Hermione skidded into the room, pausing a second to take in Harry’s upside down report and the way Snape was smirking before slamming a file onto the table. "We have reliable intel that a gathering of all high-ranking Death Eaters and his Lordship FuckFace will happen in the next week."

It was quite shocking still to hear Hermione swear that casually, but she’d taken up the habit after coming back from a foray into Troll territory and never dropped it. Turned out Trolls were very casual with language, especially when diplomacy was involved. They said it encouraged truthfulness.

"Where’s Fleur? Is she safe?" Reliable intel involved deep infiltration. Fleur was the best but she was not immune to bad luck.

"She’s got some scrapes and a prisoner but she’s fine." At Harry’s obvious surprise, she continued. "It’s Draco Malfoy. He’s not violent but he could not be trusted to keep quiet about her interrogation. He's been sworn to secrecy already and has been locked in the ballroom without his wand for now."

"I thought the Malfoys were still in France… This changes things. Do you know if they’re all back or if it's just him? Why is he here in the first place?" Snape asked, eyes intent on the file.

"Fleur’s report is there but there’s not much about Malfoy in there. You should talk to him if you want more information. I came here because the Trolls have come back to me. They’re not going to fight for MoldyFace but they’re not going to take our side either. They want to be left alone after the losses they took during the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Understandable, really. We’d do the same if we could." Harry said, focusing on reading Fleur’s report. Snape bent over his shoulder to read along. "Looks like we're going for the big fight next week, I guess. Hopefully he stays dead this time."

"Hopefully you don't die this time." Hermione answered.

He grimaced. He wouldn’t make any promises.

"Miss Granger, we’ll need a moment of privacy if you don’t mind." Harry heard from somewhere near his shoulder.

He wasn’t having another panic attack. He just wasn’t breathing well, all of the sudden.

The next thing he knew, his chair had been moved sideways and Snape was half kneeling in front of him, looking worried. He grasped at the older man's hand, needing something to ground him. He had experience with panic attacks now and could calm himself down, given calm and time. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing deep and slow. Snape periodically tightened his hold on his hand to help him along.

"I'm fine." He croaked out finally.

"So you say." Snape answered. His hands fell on both of Harry's shoulders. "Listen to me, everything will be fine. We have time to prepare, trustworthy intel and our fighters have never been as strong. We have resources and support. We'll be fine. You’ll be fine."

"Yeah, yeah I know. Just got dizzy, I feel like I’ve finally begun building something here, but time to get back to reality I guess."

Snape frowned.

"This _is_ reality. All this is why you fight, why you trained so hard for so long. And this is what you get back to, after the fight. This is your home. With your friends, your family of Weasleys, Maximilian and all the people who believe in you. Don’t even think about not coming back. Otherwise, they’ll surely summon you back from the dead as an Inferi."

Harry chuckled. Took a deeper breath. "And you. Also. Don’t think about not coming back either. If I’m not allowed to die, you aren’t either. Max needs you; seriously, that kid loves you. The orphanage needs you, and Sofian, the desperately Potions-illiterate werewolf still needs to learn how to brew Wolfsbane!" He laughed. "And me, I guess."

"You guess, huh?"

"Yeah, I kind of maybe need you. A bit." He smirked.

"You wouldn't last a day without me." Snape answered, amused.

"Probably not, no." Harry wasn’t joking about anymore. "You’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You keep me safe, and halfway sane." He held on Snape’s gaze. "Thanks...dad."

His throat was a bit sore, his eyes stinging slightly, like he was going to cry. He was going to do the most daring thing he'd ever done.

He hugged Severus Snape.

Lightly, hands landed on his back, gradually applying pressure, and just like that, he was getting a hug back.

"You're welcome, Harry." Snape rested his head on Harry’s, and held on tighter.

—

Harry took a deep breath before entering the ballroom. He hadn’t seen Draco Malfoy since the Battle of Hogwarts. Since he’d saved his life in the Room of Hidden Things.

Opening the door, he could see the blond sitting on a couch by one of the large windows. He looked healthy and unconcerned at first glance, but as Harry took the time to observe, he could see the deep bags under his eyes and the slight frown that marred his face. He wasn’t restrained but wore a charmed bracelet, impossible to take off without either Flitwick or Snape there, that made it impossible to escape the grounds. Unarmed as he was, Malfoy was harmless.

“Potter.” He greeted.

“Malfoy.” Harry answered. “Welcome to the Light Side headquarters.”

“Nice place, cheery.”

Harry summoned a chair for himself and stayed a good distance away from Malfoy, just in case.

“Did the higher-ups think I would talk to you because of our friendly history?” Malfoy sneered, dismissive.

“I am the higher-up, Malfoy. And I came because I thought you’d like me better than Snape as an interrogator.”

The blood drained out of his face.

“Snape is alive ?” He breathed out, softly. “Wait, what do you mean you’re the higher-up, I’ve heard of the Light Lord—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes shooting up to meet Harry’s, bewildered. “You ?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Obviously, you, I’m an idiot, I should have known as soon as I heard. Only you could get yourself in that position so suddenly.”

“Why that’s flattering, Malfoy, thank you. Getting back on track: I have some questions for you.”

“You’re lucky the Dark Lord didn’t believe the rumours about the Light Lord, Potter.” Malfoy had yet to regain his usual composure, but his tone was back to a sneer.

“Why are you back in Britain, Malfoy? Are your parents back too?” Harry demanded.

“Why do you care, Potter? You want to include us in your vacation resort? We have much better prospects in France.”

“Answer the question.”

“You’re preparing something. I can see it in your eyes.” Malfoy leaned forward, eyes fixed on Harry’s. “I could always tell.”

Harry let the silence answer Malfoy. The truth was that he had truly no idea how to interrogate him, if he decided on being difficult. Harry had known Draco Malfoy since his first day in the Wizarding World and they’d butted heads almost immediately. He would still give it a shot before sending Snape in.

“I want in.”

It was Harry’s turn to be stunned.

“Don’t look so surprised, Potter. You’ve seen firsthand how the Dark Lord has treated my family. I did everything he asked of me but it would have never been enough. I was to be punished endlessly for my father’s mistakes, my home trampled, my mother reduced to a servant…” He gulped and turned back towards the window. “His influence reaches far. Even in France, people were organising to follow him. There’s nowhere to hide.”

“So you came back.” Harry ventured.

“I came back -alone, mind you- because I’ve heard of the Light Lord. Dumbledore had proposed an out. I— ” He took a deep breath. “I failed to take it then. But I thought if I could get to that new Lord, I might beg for another chance.”

Malfoy had finished his speech by looking straight into Harry’s eyes in an uncharacteristic honest manner. Harry uncomfortably realised he held power of life or death over him. He could send him back, hours after having suddenly disappeared, to explain himself to the Dark Lord, with no way to tell the whereabouts of the Light Side headquarters. He would surely be dead by night. Or he could approve of his joining the Light. The decision would have to be justified to his people, to the many that had been directly impacted by the Malfoys’ actions in the past. But they would gain a trained fighter with inside information. And Harry would know that Draco Malfoy would be safe.

He never wanted this absolute power over others. But he had to deal with this decision now. Malfoy’s reasons for defecting were quite selfish, but could Harry be picky in this situation? If Malfoy wanted to help, whatever the reason, it would be a welcome addition to their firepower.

“Yes.”

“W-What, that easily?”

“Oh, no. You’ll have to pass through our entrance exam, Malfoy. If you wish us harm, you’re out. And as you have fought against us before, you’ll also get the immense pleasure of an in-depth Legilimency session with Snape.” Harry couldn’t help himself from smiling. He would give Malfoy a second chance, but he wouldn’t put his people at risk. And if he took pleasure in seeing Malfoy’s panicked face a bit, no one had to know.

—

\--

The relief Snape felt when Harry came out of the ballroom to expose his interrogation of Draco Malfoy was staggering.

He'd never truly doubted that Harry would handle challenges like this in a more merciful way than Dumbledore, but a dark corner of his mind -the one that insisted on twelve contigency plans- couldn't rid itself of the doubt before now.

Draco's present situation was very reminiscent of his own, on the eve of October 31st 1981. He was a marked Death Eater, begging for safety and help from the Light Side, very close to a confrontation with the Dark Lord. He'd been captured instead of coming on his own terms, and his reasons for turning on the Dark were just a tad more selfish, but the situation was too similar for Snape to be unconcerned.

When Snape had begged protection for Lily from Dumbledore, he'd been belittled and manipulated into service. Snape had been ready to give anything to protect his childhood friend and Dumbledore had taken advantage of that. He'd put him in an extremely perilous position, in between the forces of Light and Dark. He couldn't blame the man for grasping at all possible ways to get to the end of the war, but he'd had to make so many sacrifices and to stay in the line of fire for more than a decade. Snape had made those sacrifices willingly, had decided that the results warranted such danger, and had found himself deserving of the pain, to atone for his crimes. 

As much as Draco had been an entitled and prejudiced little bug, Snape couldn't help but recoil at the thought of anyone being forced in a similar position to his. Draco could be immature, ignorant and stupid, but he didn't deserve the same pain. He hadn't tarnished his soul as much as Snape had.

Snape took a deep breath. Harry was a different kind of leader. Even as he talked of the thorough examination and Legilimency he decided to inflict on Draco, he didn't have any thought of using the other teen as bait or putting him in harm's way.

Harry would never think of doing those things. He'd built a community of people who took care of each other and valued every life. There was no unfortunate collateral damage here, every life lost in the field of war was mourned by all and regarded as an unacceptable loss. No suffering was accepted as the price of war. 

"-- and so I think you'll be the best person to talk to him about that. He trusts you still and talking to Ron wouldn't go anywhere." 

"I'll give Weasley the list of known followers that we can expect to see." Snape assented. Harry smiled at him and gathered his notebook for his afternoon lesson. 

"Harry," Snape called, waiting for Harry to look at him before continuing. "You did very well with Draco. He could use this second chance."

"Thank you." Harry blushed when he received a compliment, still unused to them as he was. "I hope we're not making a mistake, but I can't bear to think of him dead. He's an asshole but he doesn't deserve that." 

"No one deserves that." He continued in a mutter, before exiting the study. 

Snape looked at the young man that had become a son to him and felt proud. He had become a good man, and Snape could see the strength of his determination to protect his people. There was no doubt in his mind that Harry was ready for this. In a week's time, he would face the Dark Lord again. And t his time he would win. 

\--

\--

A week passed far too quickly.

"We still need to talk about tomorrow, Harry." Snape's voice came from the kitchen.

"No time. I still have so many things to do and very little time." Harry flitted around the room, picking up parchments from the many files stacked around. Reports on resources, demands for a special budget in the Infirmary, tallies of trained fighters… Harry didn’t know where to begin.

"Accio parchments." All parchments spread around jumped in the air to land in a neatly organized pile in front of Snape.

"You’re twisting yourself into knots. Sit down and eat. Then we'll talk." He placed a bowl and spoon on the side table. Some sort of thick broth. Sitting on the couch next to Snape, Harry brought the bowl to a precarious balance on his knees.

Harry would like to think that he wasn’t childish, after all he was the Light Lord. But he was definitely eating far more slowly that he truly needed to. It wasn’t as if the last time he’d battled Voldemort he’d died, came back and then failed massively at the one task everyone —including himself—expected him to complete. Nope.

Harry sighed. Living in denial wouldn’t stop the world from turning. He’d fight the Dark Lord the next day. He’d failed before, but this time he had to win.

"Alright, I'm done eating. Talk." His hand was shaking a little, so he hid it under one thigh.

"Why did you fail last time?" Straight and to the point.

"I didn't believe I could do it. I knew it was my duty but I didn’t have faith that I could."

"Mmh. Do you now?"

"I—I don't know." Frustration and fear mixed into an ugly mixture. Nausea was cropping up. "I’ve done more complicated things than kill one guy. I’ve been juggling with thousands of different issues, roles and responsibilities. I’ve been on top of that for two months. I do feel better equipped now. I’ve had real training -I know my Occlumency still sucks, by the way- I’ve fought in minor skirmishes, I’ve solved more complex problems. I am both mentally and magically better and more confident. But can I really do this? I don’t know."

"You'll never know for sure." was Snape’s unexpected comment.

"You told me to believe and now you say I’ll never know for sure??" Harry spluttered.

"What I mean is that you’ll never be absolutely ready to kill someone. Nobody ever is. Be it the first or the hundredth time, killing someone is something that gives you pause, makes you doubt. As it should be." He toyed with his wand, nervous. "You will never believe yourself ready to kill, especially not the first time. But that's alright. You don’t need to. You only need to believe that there is no other way." Snape stood.

"There is no other way you’ll gain peace, no other way you’ll come home, no other way you’ll protect the ones you love and the ones who count on you. There is no other way this can go, other than you killing Tom Marvolo Riddle tomorrow night. Is that clear?"

Snape was sure. This was an ultimatum, there was no doubt in his mind.

"What if I fail?" was Harry’s only response to that.

"You won’t. But if you do. We will try again. We can gain more forces, recruit right under his feet, cut his access to resources, poison his rainwater, summon an elemental beast, we kill him. But you won’t fail. And deep down you know it’s true." He smiled.

"Good to know you’re always prepared for the worst case scenario." A feeble chuckle passed through Harry's lips.

"You don't survive as a spy very long if you don’t always plan three steps down the worst path." A beat. "Harry. I have full confidence that tomorrow night, this will all be over. Come here."

Harry got up. Now both his hands were shaking. Snape grasped one of them and tugged Harry into a hug. Harry had grown over the last year but Snape was still far taller than he’d ever be. But this was good. Harry was surrounded on all sides by Snape. He was safe there. He broke down in tears, clutching at Snape's cloak.

"I'm so scared." He cried. "I’m so fucking terrified."

A hand settled in his hair, brushing it back softly.

"Me too. I'm scared too. We would be fools not to be." The repetitive movement of Snape’s hand in his hair was soothing. "You won't be alone, Harry. We’ll fight together. I’ll have your back."

"You always do, dad."

"Always, my son."

\--

On the 31st of July 1998, Voldemort gathered his followers in the grand Hall of the Ministry of Magic for a celebratory speech. Some rumours floated about a Light Side that had rebirthed from the ashes of its champion’s failure, that a Light Lord had emerged. None had claimed the title publically and even with a boost in power, the Light Side was still pathetically weak compared to his own power and that of his followers. Some resistance was found to the new world order that Dark Lord Voldemort has installed. But Harry Potter had failed and had not shown his face for a good while. He was wallowing in his guilt most likely, burying all the weaklings Voldemort had destroyed.

Voldemort needed Potter dead or he’d always have a threat hanging above his head, a Damocles Sword. For the little cockroach’s birthday, Voldemort threw him a party. With all his best enemies gathered in one place. It was an obvious trap. The brat would attack tonight. He would fail again. Nothing had changed since last time, so the outcome would be the same. He would be finally crushed, either by dying or by compounding failures and losing all credibility, support and hope. Voldemort would reign supreme. Always.

\--

At 8:00 PM, Harry Potter made a late entrance to his own birthday party. He was flanked by Severus Snape, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Behind them was a mass of people wearing white robes with a bright green symbol embroidered upon their breast. A phoenix in flight, backed with a lightning bolt.

The Light Lord had arrived with his fighters. The Dark Lord, blind to his Light counterpart due to his twisted bond with his branch’s magic, rose from his stone throne and went to greet him.

"Harry Potter, welcome!" His shrill voice echoed in the marble hall. "Happy eighteenth birthday to you." The Death Eaters laughed. "How tragic that it will be your last."

"Thank you for this beautiful party, Tom, you shouldn’t have. Let’s cut to the chase, why don't we?" Harry answered. He felt unreal, vibrating with fear and yet completely calm. Pure confidence flowed through his veins. With his people behind him, he only knew determination. There was no other way. "You want me dead, I want you dead. Let's try again. Just for clarity’s sake this will only be my third attempt. You? You’ve failed far many more times. Nearly every time, if I remember correctly."

Anger overtook Voldemort's face and he attacked. Trained under the supervision of one Severus Snape, Harry Potter was well versed in defending himself from powerful Dark assaillants. Voldemort was exceedingly angry, making him quick but sloppy. Harry kept himself safe behind his shield and let him tire himself out. He had to dodge a few _Avada Kedavras_ but he’d had his fair share of acrobatics, what with chasing Maximilian around. He retaliated, calm and precise, while his heart threatened to leap out of his throat. Sidestepping stray curses seemed like child’s play. Vaulting over an overturned table was simple.

The battle was blossoming around the two of them. All around the hall, spells fused, lighting the ceiling in so many colors. Harry didn’t have the time to spare to look for his friends, for his father in this mess, he had to believe they’d hold their own. He could feel their drive and their pain when one of them was hit. But he had to center his mind on his task. They all depended on him.

Voldemort paused in his assault, visibly out of breath.

“The Boy-Who-Lived. You keep living up to that title, don’t you Potter?” Voldemort taunted. “What about the Saviour? That particular title has trouble sticking.”

“I’m not the Saviour. I’ve never been anything but Just Harry. I’m one of hundreds, the visible part of the strength that’s rising against you. Too many generations fought in this war; I’m just the temporary image of it. I’m there to gather people’s rage. I am the face of your defeat!”

Voldemort seemed thrown by his retort. He gave a quick glance to the crowd around them, taking stock of his situation. Trained Light fighters were winning. They moved as one, weaving and ducking around each other, like clockwork.

"And you brought me all your favorite people to massacre!” Voldemort continued, fake cheer in his voice. “It's usually the birthday boy that gets presents, Potter. Now who do we have here? Blood traitors, Mudbloods and Half-Bloods. A pathetic crowd. Some new faces I don’t recognize…" He chuckled. "Did you have to replace the ones we already broke? Where did you find those ones? Are they all friends of the old goat?" The Dark Lord laughed, grabbing the attention of his followers and leading to a lull in the fighting.

"These are the people who believe in me! They are my **home**! AND I FIGHT FOR THEM!" Green sparks came to envelop Harry into a terrifying display of strength. The Light Lord, properly bonded to magic as well as his people, felt a surge of power overcome him. Through his failing Occlumency shields he could sense the utter faith of the Light fighters, the ones here with him, as well as those back **home** , those too young or wounded to fight.

Catching his eyes for a second, he could sense his father's love, and his pride.

This was who he was fighting for, what he was fighting for. His home was calling. For his love they gave their love, for his strength they gave their strength, for his conviction they gave their conviction. He wasn’t one facing Voldemort. He was all of them. All of their hopes and dreams, their past suffering and their future happiness. He was pure Light.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/188109257@N05/49817083071/in/dateposted-public/)

And with two words. He ended the Dark Lord.

The last thing he felt before he passed out in an exhausted heap, was his father gathering him in his arms. Strong and safe. 

\--

On the 31st of July 1998, Voldemort gathered his followers in the grand Hall of the Ministry of Magic to celebrate Harry Potter's birthday.

On that same day, Lord Voldemort died. For good.

\--

His followers kept on making nuisances of themselves after they’d managed to escape, but the many trained fighters, both Light and Dark inclined, knew how to take them down.

In the spirit of transparency, Harry Potter denounced himself for using Unforgivables and got sentenced to reconstructing Hogwarts. He sparked a wave of self-accountability, leading to many denouncing themselves and accepting punishment.

All Death Eaters were tried, and punished for their crimes, with the aid of insiders witnesses, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, as well as Veritaserum. The two were granted lightened sentences, accounting to their respective work with the Light Side and their willingness to testify. Major outcry sparked when Severus Snape's punishment was announced, as his support for both Light and Dark had protected many. His sentence was reduced to a mere two months of public service. 

Harry Potter, great hero of the Wizarding World, became a teacher in the reformed Hogwarts. He reunited Maximilian with his blood-brother Theodore Nott, though he stayed his adoptive brother for their entire lives. He adopted three children over the course of his life and mentored countless more. Life moved on to more sensational news after a while, and he was able to appreciate life as just one citizen like many others. He bore the scars of his wartime with pride and worked to shape the minds of the future so none would feel the need to spark another war. He was a champion of magical education and integration of all, and got Squibs to be educated in Hogwarts, as well as Werewolves and Vampires.

Hermione Granger-Weasley went on to become a great politician, firm supporter of "Creature" rights. She turned down the Ministry chair in favor of staying closer to the people she defended. She promoted the appointment of concerned people to their own advocacy in the Ministry, leading to better understanding of the problems they faced. Eventually, Sofian Gayl, a werewolf, was appointed Minister when she was thirty-seven. She considered it one of her greatest achievements.

Ronald Weasley-Granger became the youngest Head Auror in history. Under his guidance and sharp tactical mind, all fleeing Death Eaters were captured and brought to justice. After the last had gone to court, seven years after his promotion, he retired and joined his brother in the Weasley Wizards Wheezes joke shop.

Luna Lovegood went on to marry Lavender Brown and continue her father's work with her wife's gossiping talent as best advertisement.

Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy joined forces to open a Herbologistery and Potions shop in Diagon Alley. Their Potions, Cures, and Poultices were world renowned.

Molly and Arthur Weasley retired and focused on loving their family and becoming friends with all their Muggle neighbors.

The Wizarding world learnt from its divisions. The strong adoption of accountability had made ex-Death Eaters and Dark followers's reinsertion after punishment well accepted.

Civil Wars had come and passed and the Wizarding World stood solid. 

…

Severus Snape lived. He lived far lobger than he'd ever dreamt of. He adopted Harry Potter as his son, was there during all parts of his life, happy and sad. He provided support, hugs and a grouchy viewpoint. His rare and gentle smile made him his grandchildren's favorite elder.

He went through war. And gained a home.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I love getting comments so don't hesitate to give me your opinion !
> 
> Please go visit [@itsanartburgernow ](https://itsaburgerwitheverythingonitnow.tumblr.com/post/616378548072202240/elfarock-is-my-snapebang-2020-partner-this-is) on Tumblr and shower them with love also!


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